


Push My Buttons

by speakingwosound (sev313)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/speakingwosound
Summary: “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it ’til the end of the day."“If you keep looking at me likethat, we’re not even going to make it to a bed.”





	Push My Buttons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nobirdstofly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobirdstofly/gifts).

> Written for the prompt meme prompt "OT4, If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed"

Lovett sighs, his heel slipping off his chair and thumping to the floor. Tommy jerks his head up to glare at him. As if _he’s _the distracting one. “Stop it.”

Jon doesn’t take the end of the tablet pen from his mouth. “I’m not doing anything.”

“That innocent act stopped working around the time you started blowing me in exchange for faster drafts,” Lovett glares.

“Jesus.” Tommy pushes his chair back and crosses the room to close the glass door that serves as a flimsy barrier between their bullshit and their beleaguered employees. “It’s still work hours.”

“I know.” Lovett pulls his keyboard closer. “I have the mountain of work to prove it.”

Jon shrugs, swiveling in his chair, letting the motion pull through his thighs. “I’m pretty much done.”

“No shit.” Lovett sighs. “You got any good jokes about John Bolton you’d like to throw my way?”

Instead of returning to his chair, Tommy leans against the edge of Jon’s desk. He crosses his arms and spreads his legs in front of him, far enough to tap against Dan’s foot. “I still think there’s something in that superhero thing Travis was workshopping earlier. The Flash, a lightning bolt-”

“-and a failed campaign promise to pull troops out of Iraq?” Dan finishes for him.

Lovett snorts. “I don’t know why you two aren’t joke writers.”

Jon shrugs, leaning forward and tapping his free hand against Tommy’s hip. He’s still worrying at the end of his pen, the muscles in his neck straining. “I think there’s something there.”

“Don’t start.” Lovett ducks his head to steal a long look at Jon, in the strip of space between his laptop and his monitor.

Jon reaches up to scratch at his collarbone, pushing the vee of his shirt further down his chest. “Again, not doing anything.”

“Again, not believing you,” Lovett bites back. He rereads his last attempt at a joke and frowns, deleting it one letter at a time. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it ’til the end of the day.”

“Then we might as well throw in the towel.” Jon tilts his head, as if he’s just getting the idea now. He’s not a good enough actor to pull it off.

Lovett snorts.

Tommy taps his toes rhythmically against Dan’s foot. The same quick-quick-slow rhythm he’d used to fuck Dan awake that morning. Lovett can’t look away.

Dan swallows shutting his laptop and flexing his fingers in the armchair he claims as his when he’s in town. Which is more and more often these days. Lovett’s been redesigning the office to fit four desks, if only in a locked folder on his desktop labeled “Mortal Kombat 11 Cheat Codes” to ensure that no-one will open it.

“I could use a break,” Dan rolls out his shoulders and stands. His shirt’s riding up his hip and he pulls it down, slowly.

Jon puts the pen back in his mouth and turns his dark eyes on Lovett.

“If you keep looking at me like _that_,” Lovett snorts, already shutting down his laptop as he corrects his earlier observation, “we’re not even going to make it to a bed.”

Jon’s grin widens around the pen. “Then we shouldn’t dilly-dally.”

Lovett shakes his head, dropping his laptop into his backpack. “Yeah, yeah, I know when I’m beat.”

Tommy laughs, pushing off Jon’s desk and reaching for his own laptop. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

“This was a conspiracy?” Lovett asks, stopping in his tracks halfway across the office. He looks from Tommy’s flushed neck to Jon’s lazy shrug to- “Et tu, Brutus? I thought half the benefit of you being here is that you’re on my side.”

Dan laughs, reaching around Lovett to open the door and holding it open for him. “When it’s in my best interest, sure. This time, Jon came to me with a better offer.”

“How you get away with that innocent act,” Lovett grumbles at Jon as he leads the way to the elevators and hits the down button, harder than strictly necessary, “I’ll honestly never understand.”

Jon grins, leaning against the wall. “It’s the face.” He forces his grin into a puppy dog expression that barely reaches his mouth, none-the-less his eyes.

“Your face is something,” Lovett agrees.

The elevator bings and Tommy pushes him inside roughly. He waits until the doors have closed, at least, before he sighs, “you know what the most surprising part about sleeping with you is?”

Lovett leans against the mirror lining the back of the elevator. He raises his chin, challengingly. “What?”

“How fucking hard it is to get you into bed.” Tommy shakes his head. “You’ve got, like, a glass cage around your dick.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Jon grins, stepping forward. That damn fucking pen is still in his mouth and it brushes against Lovett’s cheek as he steps up between Lovett’s knees and drops a hand between them. “Feels a bit more like iron than glass.”

Lovett snorts, tipping into Jon’s shoulder, “you are the absolute worst.”

“I’m the-”

Jon’s interrupted as the elevator jolts. He reaches a hand out to steady himself on Lovett’s hip.

“Tell me this is part of your plan,” Lovett says as he pulls back, just far enough to see the worried expression on Jon’s face. “You didn’t plan that.”

Jon shakes his head, his eyes flicking towards the control panel. Tommy frowns, leaning over to press the button for ‘lobby’ and then, when that doesn’t do anything, every other button until he gets to the emergency call button. “Ahh, yeah, sorry, we work at Crooked Media and there seems to be some kind of elevator malfunction.”

“Power’s out all over the block,” the voice crackles back. “Hold tight, and we’ll get you out.”

Tommy glances over at Jon’s back, his muscles tight under Lovett’s hand. “How long do you think that might take?”

The speaker crackles and spits. “We really couldn’t say, sir, but I’d settle in. It’s not gonna be in the next hour.”

“Fuck.” Tommy stops his first just inches from the emergency call button. He takes a deep breath and rolls to the side, his back thumping against the wall mirror.

“Well.” Dan drops his bag to the floor. “I think I’ve got a pack of cards in one of these pockets.”

Tommy catches Dan’s eye. “Or Lovett could regale us with his material for tomorrow night.”

Jon makes a noise, deep in his throat. It’s caught halfway between his dick, still hard against Lovett’s thigh, and the way he sounds on the way to the airport, in the moments before his anxiety meds kick in.

“Or,” Lovett suggests, slowly, arching into Jon’s chest and reaching up to take the pen from Jon’s mouth. “You could kiss me.”

Jon pulls back, dropping his eyes to Lovett’s mouth. His back is shaking under Lovett’s hand but more, now, with anticipation than with anxiety. He licks his lip, in the corner, where it’s red and raw from that damn pen.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” Lovett asks, lifting his chin to kiss that spot. It feels rough and wet and Lovett chuckles to himself as he spreads his own lips, pulling Jon in. Jon kisses loose and arrhythmically, like he’s never quite gotten over that first kiss feeling, like he’s just as overwhelmed at thirty-eight as he was as a teenager in his parents’ basement. It never fails to send a thrill down Lovett’s spine, settling, hot and heavy and just as desperate between his legs.

Lovett slides his hand down, over Jon’s ribs and the swell of lovehandles he’s been - finally, serves him fucking right, asshole - developing, so he can slip under the hem of Jon’s t-shirt. It’s soft and worn and so thin that Lovett can feel the heat of Jon’s skin long before he finally gets his hand on it. 

Jon’s skin burns when Lovett touches it and he can’t help but scramble, his nails scraping against Jon’s stomach as his ab muscles flutter, pulling away with a sharp intake of breath that Lovett tastes, hot and like the lemon LaCroix Jon drinks after recording, only to push forward again, hotter and faster and even more desperate. Lovett does it again, scraping a nail from Jon’s belly button to the button of his jeans, just to remind himself that this is real, Jon is _his_, Jon isn’t going to run like all those teenage boys Lovett had in his own parents’ basement. 

If anything, Jon will run towards him, eyes closed and trusting, any time Lovett asks. Just like he is now. His tongue fast and insistent against Lovett’s. His knee rising to press between Lovett’s thighs, too hard and too insistent and _too fucking much_, unless his goal is to get Lovett off in the first five minutes of their hour long wait.

Lovett pulls back, his heart fluttering as Jon chases after him, his eyes still closed and his mouth wet and red and abused and _wanting_. “I’ve got you,” Lovett promises, running a hand through Jon’s hair, pushing a sweaty strand that’s dared escape the gel off his forehead. “But we’re making Tommy and Dan feel left out.”

“I’m good,” Tommy says, a low level of arousal running under the shrug in his voice.

Lovett chuckles, looking over Jon’s head to watch Tommy rub his palm over his khakis. He’s hard, his dick clearly outlined against his thigh, a small wet spot already spreading at the head. 

Jon whimpers into Lovett’s shoulder, and Lovett spreads his hand on Jon’s neck, squeezing. “Can you hear Tommy? We’re so hot he can’t help himself. You’re so much, Jon.”

“Too much,” Tommy agrees, wrapping his fist around the head of his dick and rubbing his palm in a tight circle. "Just look at yourself."

Jon makes a distressed sound, burying his head in Lovett's shoulder. His breath is hot and wet, blowing against Lovett's neck in rhythmic, staccato puffs that shiver down Lovett's sides and settle between his legs. He pushes against Jon's bent knee, rutting one, twice, before Tommy catches his eyes, nodding to the back of Jon's head.

Fuck.

"Jon." Lovett levels his voice, adding edges to his tone that he mirrors with his fingers, sliding his gentle caress into a sharp pinch at the top of Jon's spine. "What did Tommy tell you to do?"

Jon freezes, his muscles pulling and tensing under Lovett's hand. Tommy bites his lip, his hand speeding up as his dick jumps in his pants.

Lovett shakes his head, pushing his hips back, flush against the wall. "I'm not going to tell you a third time."

Jon's neck vibrates as he whines. He pushes forward, seeking out the hollow of Lovett’s hips, rutting against air as Lovett holds him steady. "I-" Jon’s voice waivers as looks, his whole body shivering as he meets his own eyes in the mirror. “I’m a mess.”

Lovett chuckles, brushing his fingers over Jon’s cheek. Jon’s pupils are dark and wide, his skin clammy under Lovett’s touch. “You have no idea what you look like to us.”

Tommy groans, pressing the heel of his hand tightly over the base of his dick. "You're fucking gorgeous."

“Look at them looking at you,” Lovett orders, sliding his hand around Jon’s hips and settling on his lower back, dipping his fingers lower, lower, lower until he’s drawing comforting circles over his crack. “Tommy’s about to come from just the damn sight of you and Dan-” Lovett smirks at Dan over Jon’s head- “can’t even touch himself.”

Dan shakes his head, his knuckles white against the railing. Lovett can see the ripple of his back muscles in the mirror, straining to hold himself steady. “Couldn’t, unless we all wanted this to be over embarrassingly quickly.”

Jon’s dark eyes bore into the mirror, first at Tommy, then Dan, then buries his forehead in Lovett’s shoulder. 

Lovett pinches his ass. “None of that, Jon. If we have to look at your fucking ridiculous beauty, then you do, too.” 

Jon shakes his head, a protest rumbling through his chest, but he looks up, catches his own gaze in the mirror, without argument and isn’t that just- Lovett will never get over the way Jon _trusts him_, puts the softest parts of himself in Lovett’s palms and trusts him not to close his fist. Jon lets himself fall and, like dozens of Lovett’s coworkers before him, trusts Lovett not to be the weakest link. It’s like all Lovett needed, in all those damn team building exercises at company retreat after company retreat, was higher stakes, the highest stakes, was Jon’s heart and his ass and that little trigger behind his balls that’s the smoothest, softest, most dangerous spot on his body.

Jon trusts him to know what he needs and, even as Lovett’s dick leaps and leaks and begs for its own attention, Lovett’s going to give it to him.

“You don’t believe me,” Lovett accuses, dropping his voice low and close enough to Jon’s ear that Dan and Tommy have to lean forward to hear, “so here’s what we’re going to do. Tommy’s going to fuck you-”

Tommy groans and starts jerking himself again, the sound of skin on khaki filling the small space.

“-and you’re going to describe it.” Lovett turns to kiss behind Jon’s ear, catching the lube between his teeth for a long moment as he lets his orders sink in. “Every moment. Dan and I want to hear everything.”

Dan nods quickly then, as Lovett glares at him, clears his throat. He sounds as rough as Lovett feels. “Lovett and I know exactly how Tommy feels. We’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Fuck.” Tommy groans.

Heat burns through Jon, warming Lovett’s fingers on his neck then burning down his spine. He pushes into Lovett, closing the distance between them and forcing Lovett’s hand lower. “I want that.”

Lovett grins, “I know,” and lets the tip of his middle finger slide inside him. Jon’s body is on fire from the inside, and it takes effort not to shy away from the heat before Lovett gets burned. “I know what you need, Jon. Will you let Tommy help you?”

Jon nods, frantically, turning his head to look at Tommy.

Lovett clucks in disappointment, squeezing Jon’s jaw and turning him, eyes forward. “You know the rules. I’m not going to tell you again.”

Jon swallows and looks straight ahead, nodding frantically.

“And use your words,” Lovett orders, nodding his head for Tommy to step forward. “I’m trusting you to be good for Tommy. You don’t want to make him feel inadequate, do you?”

Dan snorts and mutters, his eyes dipping to look at Tommy’s straining bulge, “as if that’s possible.”

Jon shakes his head, frantically.

“Good.” Lovett presses a kiss to Jon’s cheek and, as Tommy steps up behind Jon, Lovett slides out from under him. Jon makes a distressed sound and Lovett pauses to pinch his neck, one last time before relinquishing him to Tommy’s hands.

Dan pushes back from the wall, his knuckles still white as he wraps his fingers around Lovett’s biceps. He pulls Lovett in, lowering his mouth like all he was waiting for was permission. His mouth is hot and wet from where he’s been swallowing back his arousal and it moves insistently against Lovett’s like, now that the levies have been opened, nothing, not the soft sounds Jon’s making or the click of Tommy’s belt, can stop him.

Lovett gasps into his mouth, pulling back only enough to say, “words, Jon, use them,” before tangling his fingers in the back of Dan’s hoodie and pulling him down.

Dan never kisses the same way twice. It’s intoxicating, all-encompassing, and it takes all his mental energy to keep up with him as, this time, Dan kisses hot and fast and omni-directional, like he’s pulling Lovett through a maze with, hopefully, gold at the center. Lovett tips back under the force of it, catching himself on Dan’s neck. Dan grins, bunching Lovett’s shirt to press his palm into the divot of his lower back, catching him as he falls backwards and pushing until Lovett arches against his chest.

Lovett struggles to keep up with him and keep half his mind on Jon’s whimpered “Tommy’s taking off his pants- _fuck, Tommy_, you’re so _hard_” and choked off “yes, yes, _yes_, Tommy’s fingers feel-.” So Lovett stops trying. He lets himself be pulled under Dan’s surf, let’s himself drown in the feel of Dan’s hands and the sounds of his groans, lets Jon’s words fishbowl in his ears, warped long and low and rhythmic.

Lovett forgets, as his world narrows to the small elevator space, where the lines of delineations are. As Jon gasps out a running commentary, Lovett can almost feel Tommy’s dick in him, pressing Lovett deep and open, thrusting in the short, staccato rhythm Tommy likes best. As Jon describes the flush in Tommy’s cheeks, Lovett can feel his own cheeks heat, can feel it spreading down his chest, under Dan’s hands, into his briefs. As Jon gasps and breaks, as Lovett urges him “keep talking, Jon,” as Dan licks a line down his palm and gets his hand around them both, Lovett can feel the effort each word takes in the shaking of his thighs and the knotting in his throat.

And then, as Jon’s cry of “I’m going to-” devolves into a rush of moans and gasps, Lovett just manages to bite out “god, Jon, keep going, talk Tommy through it” before he’s jerking in Dan’s hand. His hips thrust forward, into the tightness of Dan’s fist and the blazing heat of his dick, jumping and tightening against Lovett’s, and then he’s coming, shouting what he’s almost sure is Dan’s name but could be almost anything.

Lovett’s ears pound as sounds reverberate off the mirrors. Tommy’s choked off groan and Dan, gasping wetly in Lovett’s ear and spilling across his own hand. Jon’s dissatisfied sigh as Tommy pulls out. Dan’s breath, short and shallow. The whine that Lovett can’t place until he realizes it’s coming from _him_.

He’s not sure how long they stand in the feedback loop before the intercom bursts to life. “Everyone still alive in there?”

Lovett chokes out a desperate laugh, tipping forward into Dan’s shoulder as he leans over to press the button. “If you’re taking hostage requests, we could use some water.”

The firefighter chuckles. “We’ve almost gotten things fixed. We’ll have you out in just a minute or so.”

“That was close,” Tommy sighs, adjusting himself and sliding his softening dick back into his briefs. He sucks in his stomach so he can do up the button on his pants.

Jon groans, straightening and pulling at his own pants. His thighs are red and raw and leaking Tommy’s come as he pulls his briefs up. Lovett groans at the sight, shivering as Dan pulls his sticky hand close and cleans it carefully with is discarded hoodie. Dan presses a kiss behind his ear, whispering, “too close for coincidence,” low enough for only Lovett to hear.

Lovett shivers, leaning into Dan’s shoulder as the elevator creaks and slowly starts sinking.

“Thank fucking god,” Jon sighs in relief. “I’m taking the stairs for the next fifty years.”

“It’ll do wonders for your thighs,” Lovett shrugs as he jogs to keep up with him. “And, thinking about it, the stairwell does offer some interesting possibilities.”

Tommy laughs, wrapping an arm around Lovett’s shoulders. “Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated! Come find me on [Tumblr](https://stainyourhands.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat.


End file.
